Despair
by Vegetableswillhavetheirrevenge
Summary: The trial is on, and the magic-users of Camelot are half way through their chance to prove themselves to the Kingdom. With the entire future of their kind on the line, along with Merlin's own life, the effort to help things go smoothly has been tremendous. But not everyone cares about the future of magic-kind, and things are about to turn for the worse. Fourth in Redemption.
1. Chapter 1

**I'M BACK! And I bring with me an offering of peace and goodwill (or is it?)- this, the fourth in my Redemption series! To those of you who have already read Nightmares, Reality and Illusions, welcome back! **

**To those of you who haven't, here's the basics: Morgause made a spell so Merlin had endless Nightmares whenever he slept as revenge for the Morgana poisoning, which ended up in Arthur accidentally finding out about the magic (and being surprisingly okay with it). In Reality, The Witches teamed up with Alvarr and sent an Army of sorcerers marching on Camelot. In order to save the day, Merlin had to reveal his magic in a big way and, after a failed execution, Uther locked him up in a dingy dungeon, with no plans of ever releasing him. In the process, Merlin subconsciously gave Arthur a tattoo with epic protective properties. Illusions showed Morgana's return to Camelot, along with a devious plot to hijack the minds of the entire Kingdom so that they willingly gave her the throne. Arthur, together with Kennard (a Knight who, due to unknown magical powers and a special mind, was unaffected by the spell) set Merlin free, and together with an undercover sorcerer named Michael and his daughter Aveline, they managed to save the day (but at a horrendous price). Uther, haven't experienced by now the pureness of Merlin's magic, agreed somewhat reluctantly to a six-month trial of magic, with Merlin's life and the entire future of magic as the stakes. And now we start my tale of Despair, which takes place three months into said trial. If you want all the details, you should probably go and read the stories in full. If not, then that's okay too. The choice is all yours.**

**Extra rambles at the end. For now, please enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin (although a growing number of people seem to be rallying behind my plan of travelling back in time to transfer the power to a select group of deserving individuals).**

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**Chapter 1**

In the centre of one of Camelot's many vast halls, a young man knelt nervously, a heavy hood concealing his every expression as he stared, wide-eyed, at the figures gathered before him. The four made an imposing sight, draped as they were in intricately woven robes, and with similarly-decorated hoods of their own shrouding all but the vaguest impressions of their features from sight. With the flickering candlelight casting the room in eerie, dancing shadows, and with the almost tangible thrum of power and authority in the air, it was taking every last ounce of his willpower not to simply turn tail and run as fast as humanly possible. In fact, had he not been absolutely certain that none of these beings meant him any harm, he would have done just that, regardless of what he knew was so nearly in his grasp.

One of the figures spoke, his voice ringing through the air in such a manner that it was almost impossible to decipher the actual source of the sound.

"You have been informed of each and every term," he started, "and have been made fully aware of all aspects of this agreement?"

It took a moment for the young man to remember that he needed to reply. He gulped once, swallowing past the dry lump which had formed in his throat. "I have."

"And you are willing to adhere to these terms, knowing what will befall you should you choose to betray them?"

"I am."

At his reply the figures parted, revealing a beautifully carved wooden podium, runes of power he had never even seen before etched in swirling grooves onto its surface.

"Then rise," continued the voice, "and come forward."

He did- climbing to his feet, and wishing absently that the cold stone of the floor hadn't turned his knees quite so numb, until he drew to a halt mere feet from his ultimate goal. Upon the podium, he could now see, rested a single scroll of parchment. Ancient runes and words from various languages traced a golden pattern along its edges, but other than that the parchment appeared almost ominously blank. To the podium's right, a smaller pillar came into view, this one holding naught but a minuscule bowl of ink and a single, pure white quill.

There was barely time to take all of this in, though, before the voice was speaking again, only this time he was close enough to realise that it was emanating from the figure now standing to the immediate right of the podium.

"Do you vow, then, to wield your knowledge of magic wisely, and in a manner which benefits Camelot and all her citizens?"

"I vow to wield my knowledge with all the wisdom I possess, for the aid of Camelot."

"And do you acknowledge the right of the crown to punish you accordingly should you knowingly break this oath?"

"I acknowledge the crown's authority over me."

"Then you have my approval, and with it the approval of the crown."

With these words, the man drew a sharp, two-ended pin from within his robes, and used it to pierce a small hole in the palm of his hand. A single drop of blood welled up, and was allowed to drop into the waiting ink.

A second figure came forward from the left of the podium and promptly mimicked the man's actions. This time, though, the tones belonged to a woman. "The council of magic acknowledges you." She then moved to stand to the reverse of the podium, and a second man took her place.

"The Guild of Perception Magic acknowledges you."

The final figure's voice revealed her to be another woman, this time acting on behalf of the Guild of Nature Magic. Once her own blood had joined that of the others within the ink, she, too, made her way to a point behind the podium, so that the four were now arranged in a loose semicircle around it. Then the first man's hand withdrew once more into the folds of his robes, this time emerging with a small vial of red liquid clutched in his grasp. Uncorking the stopper, he let a single drop of the viscous liquid drop into the ink.

"And, with this, the Guild of Defensive Magic acknowledges you also. If you truly desire to accept this acknowledgement, then step up to the podium and draw back your sleeve."

Swallowing his growing nerves, the young man followed the instructions, tugging back his right sleeve until his entire forearm was exposed. Even knowing what he did about what was going to happen, though, he couldn't quite hold back a slight flinch when the robed man took hold of his proffered arm and pierced it with the other end of the pin. The wound was not deep, but the sight of his own blood never failed to leave him with a slight feeling of queasiness. Nevertheless, he didn't once look away as the pin carried a droplet away and deposited it with the rest.

With that done, the pin was once again concealed, and its wielder took a few slow steps, completing the half-circle and ensuring that the surface of the scroll was out of his line of sight. The the voice came again.

"Hold your right hand above the ink, then take the quill in your left and place its tip against your wound."

Almost as soon as the action was complete, the figures started chanting. Words of ancient power ebbed and flowed, weaving together with such incredible pace that he found himself quite unable to make out more than the odd phrase. And yet the voices continued, never once faltering, blending together in such perfect harmony that it could almost be described as beautiful. And as they spoke the ink glowed dully beneath his hand, its surface rippling and pulsing until it almost seemed as though a living creature was dwelling within it. The waves came faster and faster, building in pace until they matched the rhythm of the spoken words. Then, at the precise moment they reached their frenzied peak, the ink leapt up, trailing along his skin until it reached the point the needle had pierced. A momentary spark engulfed the spot, and then the wound was gone. Less than a heartbeat passed before the ink was moving again. A portion split off and travelled into the waiting quill's nib, while the rest spread out in all directions, sinking into his skin to form a simple yet intricate design.

The tattoo was unique to him, he knew, bound as it was with his own blood and the blood and magic from the guilds he wished to join. He watched it form with undisguised interest. There was the inner triangle of defence, cut through the centre by the vertical eye of perception. And, leading away from where the two joined, the two thorny branches from the Guild of Nature Magic wove themselves proudly into his cells. Amongst them all, of course, formed the central points of power for each guild- the ones which would allow his access to the respective guild houses and the libraries which dwelt within. Then, enclosing it all, a single ring to bind the spell together, imbued with the power and authority of Emrys himself.

As he studied the tattoo in its entirety, the voice spoke again. He may not have been surprised were it not for the fact that not one of the figures had ceased their ever more complex chanting. The voice was speaking in his head- a not unheard of phenomenon among magic users, but the ability of mind-speak was not one with which this particular young man had ever been gifted.

'_You can remove the quill now_,' spoke the voice. '_Use it to sign your name upon the scroll._'

Still confused, the man nonetheless hastened to switch the quill to his right hand. This was a complex ceremony- better to obey now and ask questions later. Thankful as ever for the uncle who had deemed it necessary to teach him his letters, he guided the quill towards the parchment and carefully etched out each individual letter of his name.

It took only a few seconds more for the spell to finally draw to a close, and as the final words dispersed into the air, so, too, did the ink on both scroll and arm fade out of sight.

There was a moment of heavy silence as the true weight of what had just occurred settled itself in his mind. Free. He was free. For the first time in over five years, he would finally be able to walk the streets without fear of execution. Tears sprung, unbidden, to his eyes at the thought, even as a tremendous grin threatened to split his face cleanly in two. This trial of magic may have only had three months left to it, but he knew in that moment that he would do his utmost to ensure its ultimate success. If only so that he would never have to experience such a feeling of separation again.

Then the voice spoke once more.

"If you so choose, you may remove your hood and speak your name here. If you desire your identity to remain unknown, then you will be escorted from the castle and you will be free to remove it whenever you feel it safe to do so. Anyone who attempts to remove it by force will be punished accordingly, in keeping with the terms of this contract."

"There's no need for that," he answered, still beaming even as he drew back his hood, absently ruffling his unruly mop of dirty blond hair. "There's no chance of me hiding again."

The lead figure removed his own hood in reply, revealing an interesting set of features, pale skin, blue eyes and a grin more open and friendly than the young sorcerer had ever seen. "I'm glad to hear it. Your name, then?"

"Asher." He accepted the outstretched hand, studying the man before him. So this was Emrys. He wasn't as imposing as the prophecies had made him out to be. "My name is Asher."

"Merlin," Emrys replied. "Glad to have you on board, Asher."

It was a little odd, suddenly hearing the voice without the authority and power required for the ceremony. It made Emrys seem more... normal, somehow. A strange notion, but one he suspected he would adjust to easily enough.

"This is Maven," Merlin continued, oblivious to Asher's inner musings as he gestured towards a somewhat firm-looking woman from the now similarly unhooded trio to his right. "She works with me as a member of the council of magic. Peronell- "the other woman- shorter, with more of a plump figure- "is the head of the Guild of Nature Magic, and Franklin-" the man with piercing, ice-blue eyes and an immaculately groomed goatee- "is head of Perception Magic. Don't worry- they look scary, but they don't bite. Much." The Warlock grinned again, seemingly finding amusement in Asher's expression. "Any questions?"

Asher jolted out of his shock- those other three really did paint an imposing picture- and managed to recall his earlier confusion.

"Umm... earlier- you spoke in my mind?"

"Ah." Merlin gave a nod of understanding. "As I thought, you're not used to it."

"No," Asher agreed. "How did you-" He cut himself off.

"Part of the spell," Merlin explained. "All those with a double-ringed tattoo- that's the council and guild heads- will be able to speak directly to you in times of crisis. And, this being Camelot, you never know when _those_ will occur." Here he rolled his eyes, and Asher had an uncomfortable feeling that the gangly man was only half joking. "It only works one way, I'm afraid, but I reckon it'll prove a useful enough addition. Thankfully, we haven't had much use for it outside of the ceremony. Yet."

"Right..." Was this man _trying_ to make him nervous? Then he noticed something he'd been too overwhelmed to realise before. "What about the Defensive Magic guild head?" It _was_ his chosen main guild, after all. He'd been rather looking forward to the meeting.

"Oh, that's right!" Merlin exclaimed. "You weren't told, I expect. Dena had to head out on an urgent matter. You needn't worry, though- she donated some magically-enhanced blood for the spell before she left, so no issues there. She'll probably be back by this evening, so you can meet her then. And, until then, Sir Jaxon will show you around." He gestured towards the reverse of the room, and Asher turned to see two men walking towards him. The shorter one was blond and dressed in a loose, high-quality red shirt, breeches and leather boots. The other was probably about ten years older, his red cloak marking him out as the 'Sir Jaxon' Merlin had referred to.

Asher had heard of Sir Jaxon, of course. One of only three magic-wielding knights of Camelot, he and sirs Cheston and Kennard were hot topics even in the far reaches of Odin's Kingdom, Karmerie. Jaxon's name was especially well known, as he had also taken a position as assistant to one of the guild heads on top of his regular duties. Now it seemed that the head in question was this 'Dena' he had yet to meet.

"A pleasure to meet you, Asher," Jaxon stated in a deep, resounding bass. "As Merlin said, I have been tasked with introducing you to Camelot and to the guild. I hope you're a fast learner, because there's an awful lot to take in, and we don't have much time."

Asher held back a gulp. Here was another intimidating one. Camelot seemed to have a lot of those. "Understood."

"Are we done here yet?" Quipped the blond man, a hint of annoyance in his otherwise quite genial tones. "Not that this isn't all extremely touching, but if you hadn't noticed, _Mer_lin, he have quite a lot to get through today."

Before Asher could even think of reacting, Merlin sent the mystery man a mock glare. "And if you'll recall, _Ar_thur, I'm the one who reminded _you_ of that before we started here." The Warlock sent a jokingly apologetic glance in Asher's direction. "Sorry about Arthur. He's impatient at the best of times. And he always gets a bit annoyed at having to attend these ceremonies." Ignoring Arthur's indignant 'I do not!,' Merlin barrelled on. "But we have to have one of the royal family present, and Uther tends to be busy, so the Prince here has to come instead."

Now the nerves had blown into full-blown panic. No-one had told him about this! Eyes wide with horror at the thought of being seen as rude by the Once and Future King, Asher practically stumbled over himself in his haste to bow from the waist. "Forgive my ignorance, my Lord," he managed to force out, rather proud of the fact that his voice remained firm and stutter-free. "It is an honour to make your acquaintance." He didn't straighten until a poorly-concealed snicker of amusement from Merlin caught his attention. Trying in vain to will the red from his cheeks, he looked around to see if any of the others wore a similar expression to the Warlock.

They didn't.

"Forgive this idiot," the Prince droned, a tiny hint of a smirk hidden at the corners of his lips. "He is somewhat prone to fits of the giggles at the most inappropriate of times. Now-" he turned to face Jaxon- "I believe the two of you have somewhere to be."

The older knight inclined his head in brief acknowledgement of the dismissal. "Thank you, sire." Turning immediately, he set a brisk pace towards the door, and Asher had no choice but to follow. And as he risked a glance back at the Prince, a single, most unexpected thought flashed through his mind.

'He's not as tall as I thought he'd be."

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**Ja-jannn! And so ends Despair's initial debut. For anyone who is curious about it, I have created a deviantart account (user name VWHTR), and posted the guild symbols there, along with the images of the combined symbols for each of the members of the magic council (plus the names and ages of the new characters they belong to). Also, considering that the rules and stuff behind this whole trial business are so complex, and because, inevitably, a certain number of OCs are required for this story to be believable, I have decided that my pm box (and reviews, of course) will be open to any questions about this little world of mine which you wish to see answered. This applies to anything which won't be a spoiler, so it can be pretty much anything you're interested in. I will do my best to answer all questions to your satisfaction.**

**Just so you know, these first few chapters will largely be setting the scene, and introducing you to the main changes around Camelot. But have no fear. Things will kick off soon enough. And, hopefully, there will be plenty of angst for you when they do. XD**

**As always, reviews are more than welcome. Like any writer, I really do crave feedback. And this particular series is my main fanfiction baby, so that's extra true here.**

**(ps. I know I gave Odin's Kingdom a name. It kind of bugs me that, even on the official map, pretty much none of the kingdoms have names, and Nemeth is nowhere to be found, even though they supposedly have a claim on the lands of Gedref, and the labyrinth is shown perfectly clearly. So I've taken the liberty of naming each Kingdom, along with one or two random locations in each. They're all real old place names, but with absolutely no regard whatsoever to the original geography)**

**I think that's about it for now, so I'll leave you here. I look forward to hearing from whoever I hear from. ^_^**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ummm... wow. Sorry guys- I completely didn't realise that it had been quite a horrendously long time since I posted chapter one. Life sort of decided to give me an almost endless stream of mini and maxi-blow-ups. Some easy to handle, some taking days to sort. Some of you know about the laptop keyboard/apple juice incident from earlier on. Only one or two know that, due to work stuff, I have had to move prefectures twice (talk about hectic). Plus, it's a new school year over here, so I've had to start settling in to new schools and getting to know teachers etc. Still, rest assured that I have no intention whatsoever to make this a regular occurrence. Bring on the shorter update gaps! :D**

**On an entirely different note- thank you sooo much for the fantastic reviews for last chapter. Not to mention those of you who have already decided that this story is already worth following and/or favouriting. I invite all of you to a week-long stay in Camelot castle- no attacks guaranteed (unless you want them).**

**PS. HAPPY EASTER!**

**Now, without further ado, on to the story!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. Sigh.**

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**Chapter 2**

The door had barely drawn to before Merlin shot a glare in Arthur's direction. Which the Prince then promptly ignored. Right at that moment, the young Warlock could quite happily have cursed him and his inborn ability to keep a straight face. It was all the prat's fault that Merlin had even cracked up in the first place. The Prince, it turned out, was not above cracking jokes about those who treated him with such over-the-top regard, as long as such jokes were kept within the confines of his own mind. Or, in this case, Merlin's.

And, to make matters worse, the Warlock couldn't even say anything in open retaliation. The two had decided against informing anyone else about the link between their minds- Uther, in fact, believed the tattoo which allowed it had been removed, rather than simply relocated to a less obvious location wrapped around the Prince's left hip. No-one- not even Arthur's manservant- knew for sure that it still existed. Which meant that yelling at the prat now would appear entirely uncalled for. So, instead, Merlin settled for a temporary solution- jabbing mental promises of imminent revenge in Arthur's direction.

The others, it appeared, were less distracted, and their focus had remained upon the newly-registered Asher.

"We shall have to keep an eye on that one," Maven observed, unclasping her ceremonial robes and tugging them off in one smooth motion. "He strikes me as being almost dangerously impulsive. At his level he should be focusing on one guild, not bouncing between three entirely different areas of study."

"Oh, come on," Merlin objected, getting hold of the scroll as they made their way towards the rear chamber. "He's just excited is all. Besides, I'm technically a member of every guild, and you've never accused _me_ of 'bouncing around.' Well, apart from that one time with the Nimhora root..."

Peronell, who had snagged the quill on her way past, quirked an amused eyebrow. "Questionable experiments with my roots aside, the situations are entirely different, and you know it. No, I'm inclined to agree with Maven this time. I, for one, will not be allowing that one near any of the more volatile plants until he's calmed down quite a bit. Call me crazy, but I'd rather _not_ see a repeat of Nilson's crígan incident."

Everyone experienced an internal shudder at the reminder, but Merlin managed to shake it off relatively quickly. "Well what about you, Franklin?" He pleaded, turning towards his last, desperate hope. "_You_ don't think he's a lost cause, do you?"

The older man didn't even turn around, instead choosing to hang his robes in the waiting wardrobe with careful precision. "Not a lost cause, no," he stated drily. "But I'd place it as another three weeks before he realises that he's over-estimated his abilities and finds his niche. He has a reasonable amount of potential, though, and could prove quite useful in a few years provided he learns to pace himself properly."

Nobody questioned the opinion. In fact, Merlin (and Arthur, he sensed) was rather curious about just how much withheld information the elder man had stored away in order to reach his conclusion. Nothing escaped Franklin's sharp gaze when it came to people, which made his input invaluable when it came to relevant matters of the court. And a little bit scary the rest of the time.

Scroll and quill safely secured in their cabinet, the young Warlock moved to place his own robes in with the others, glad as ever to be free from their oppressive weight.

"Be that as it may be," he pointed out, "I count it as a positive sign that we still have people signing up even after such a long time. Surely that means that it's likely that more people are coming to trust the system. And the more who trust it, the greater our chance of success, right?"

Maven limited her reaction to a slight crease in her brows. Peronell, however, had never been one for restraint, and promptly planted a light slap upside Merlin's head. "Here, what's with that tone? You're not going all pessimistic on us again, are you?"

The youth merely rubbed the back of his head somewhat ruefully. "Wouldn't dream of it- not with you keeping me in line."

The older lady's eyes glittered good-naturedly. "And darn right, too."

It was at this moment that Arthur finally chose to interject, before the situation began calling for hugs.

"If you'll excuse us, ladies. Gentleman." He nodded at each in turn. "But I believe this idiot and I have a training session to be late for. Again."

With a few more quips from Peronell, and slightly more reserved farewells from the other two, the group went their separate ways, back through the main chamber and out into the corridors. Merlin and Arthur increased their pace, the younger of the pair casting a couple of quick spells to conceal their presence from anyone who might attempt to follow without necessity. Arthur was right about one thing, even if he had likely only said it to escape from what he deemed an awkwardly emotional moment- they were on a tight schedule, and this was no time for distractions and interruptions. They couldn't afford to be held up for anything of less than crucial importance, or Uther may well have their heads.

Or, at least, Merlin's head...

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Sir Edgar knelt behind a hefty oak, forcing his breathing to remain steady as he fired rapid-paced hand gestures in the direction of his remaining men. Two had fallen already, taken out by some strange pulse of energy their rogue sorcerer had somehow managed to rig to activate when they passed. And, judging by the extent of the leg wound Gerard had attained during their initial strike, the other knight was likely to hit unconsciousness before long. Himself not included, that meant three left at full strength in his force, and no way to know how the other group was faring without risking alerting the enemy to their position.

This was supposed to have been a simple mission- they had faced more powerful opponents in the past, and this one was alone, after all. It should have been easy.

They hadn't accounted for such a level of warped creativity.

A crash sounded from the east, then more, each one coming closer in quick succession. It looked like the sorcerer had decided it was time to stop running, and instead bring the fight to them.

Trying to ignore the sudden sound of harsh, startled yelling in the distance, Edgar raised himself silently to his feet, signalling for his men to do the same. Two of them supported Gerard from either side, and together the group moved from their position, keeping a wary eye out as they cut a meandering path towards the clearing they knew lay only a short distance ahead. If their opponent had been seeking a vantage point from which to launch his offensive, then that would most likely be it.

It was about three tension-filled minutes before they finally managed to settle in a spot where the clearing was clearly visible, but which still offered them some measure of protection. As expected, their sorcerer stood dead centre, revolving at a steady pace as he eyed the surrounding trees warily. A small glass orb was clutched in one of his hands, glowing faintly in the dim light of the forest. He didn't seem to have noticed them yet, which meant that this could well be their only chance.

Edgar peered round at his men. Gerard was officially unconscious now, thought whether from blood loss or pain was uncertain. The other three were ready to go, though, and appeared to have noticed the same thing he had, and reached the same conclusion. A few quick hand signals to settle the plan, and a few seconds more before the sorcerer's rotation brought their approach path out of his line of vision, and then they were moving, their formation tight as they crept with quick, silent surety towards their goal.

And that was when things started to go horribly wrong.

Sir Vidor was the first to go, being the head of the formation. Five feet from their enemy, he simply burst into green-tinged flame, a glowing magic circle springing into life beneath his feet, with the sorcerer at the centre. Benedict followed a mere second later, to slow to stop his barrelling forward motion. The pair crumpled to the ground, the red of the bands they had tied to their arms flaring brightly. Edgar and his last remaining man drew to a horrified halt, before instantly springing back and apart in an effort to split the target they no doubt presented. The sorcerer turned slowly towards them, a malicious smile twisting otherwise gentle features into something which could have struck fear into the heart of the Devil himself. Something indeterminable, yet somehow terrible, glinted in his eyes.

"Well lookie what I found."

The orb in his hand pulsed again, its light marginally dimmer than before, and an invisible force sprung out of nowhere, binding Edgar's feet to the ground and dragging at the weapons of both he and his companion until they lay scattered at the sorcerer's feet. Smiling grimly, the man bent to pick up one of the blades, testing its weight and nodding once in satisfaction. The orb's light lessened marginally more, and the sorcerer glanced at it warily before backing towards a gap between two trees.

"Thanks for the sword. Tell that Prince of yours I said hi." And, with that said, he darted into the shadow of the trees and out of sight.

Or he _would_ have darted out of sight, had not a large net chosen that precise moment to drop onto his head, its weight sending the unlucky sorcerer crashing to the floor. A figure stepped out from behind one of the trees, yanking the near-spent orb from the hands of the fallen man.

"Tell me yourself."

The effect was immediate. The bonds around Edgar's feet disappeared. The trees faded from view, leaving a number of solid wooden posts in their place. All of his fallen comrades clambered to their feet. And a disgruntled moan echoed out from beneath the net.

"Owww!" The net rose and dumped itself on the ground several feet away, revealing a rather annoyed-looking Merlin rubbing his head and glaring balefully up at the Prince. "You didn't have to drop it quite so hard."

Arthur merely shrugged, entirely unaffected by the comment as he eyed the meagre glow coming from the ball in his hands. "You really were almost out, then."

"Yeah."

"I thought so."

As Merlin busied himself with climbing ungracefully to his feet, the blond looked around at the scattered positions of his knights. "Who died?" Four hands rose sheepishly into the air. "Unconscious?" The hands were replaced by two others. Arthur sighed. "So in capturing an opponent of only moderate power levels, six knights were incapacitated. That number would have risen to eight had the enemy not run out of power when he did." The Prince did not look happy. "Hardly our best result yet. Wouldn't you agree?"

No-one answered. Edgar didn't dare speak. He had effectively got his entire force wiped out. What kind of result was that for a squad leader? He looked down at the sash tied around his arm. The green was still glowing right now but, if things had been even slightly different, that could have applied to the yellow- or even the red- instead. This really wasn't good enough. Eyes blazing, he turned his gaze to where Merlin now stood, looking right back at him with a knowing expression on his face.

"Where did I go wrong?"

Merlin smiled approvingly, offered him a tiny nod, and then gestured for the other knights to gather round.

"Your first mistake was a simple one, but without it the others likely wouldn't have occurred. Before we started, Arthur told you that, while my specialities were unknown, I would be playing the role of a mid-level sorcerer. If you hadn't relaxed at that point, then I have no doubt that this mission would have been a lot more successful. You cannot assume that a lack of magical power equates to an easy opponent, and you might not always have a Watcher with you to help if the situation turns bad. Remember, magic is about brains and ingenuity- not just raw strength. It's similar to sword fighting in that respect. A physically weaker man can defeat a stronger opponent with the right techniques and tactics, and in the same way a magic user with limited power can prove to be an extremely tricky foe to bring down. If you had been as cautious here as you would have been against someone three times the strength, you may have succeeded in your initial assault and come away with only minimal injuries. If at all possible, never face a sorcerer head on unless you have a good grasp of their abilities."

"What about that final circle?" Benedict questioned. "How were we supposed to have got through that?"

"The idea wasn't to go past or through it," Merlin explained. "All magic has limits. The circle was set to react to a human form- animals or inanimate objects could have passed through freely; they require an entirely different type of spell. As Arthur's team appear to have worked out, it was a somewhat desperate last stand- an attempt to incapacitate you in order to have better chance of escaping. A single arrow, fired with the right timing, could have prevented any deaths."

Benedict didn't look happy. "But we were ordered-"

"-To bring me back alive to stand trial. I know. But you had already realised your enemy was a dangerous one. And I'm sure you're all aware of how pain can break the concentration needed for a trap spell. An arrow to my leg, or even a rock thrown with enough force, would have given you the opening you needed to take me down."

At least Benedict had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Right," Merlin exclaimed, clapping his hands together exuberantly. "I think that's enough for you to work with. _Edhwierft_." With a flash of the Warlock's eyes, every training band reverted to its original state. Another flash after he had retrieved the glass orb from Arthur, and it once again glowed with power. A third, and the wooden poles rearranged themselves, this time forming the illusion of a small village; complete with faint, ghost-like images of the residents strolling here and there among the houses.

"Same opponent," Merlin continued, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Different setting. Let's see how well you fare this time."

With a word from Arthur, the entire group of knights backed away to one corner of the cavernous training room, giving the Warlock time to conceal himself whilst they discussed their strategy. This time, Edgar decided, things would go very differently. He would make absolutely certain of it.

* * *

**Ja-jaaa! So? What do you guys think of the training room? Wouldn't you just love one all to yourself? The armbands themselves are fun enough. To me, anyway... **

**Again, I am 100% open to answering any questions about the things you've read so far- whether they be about characters, magical laws or the tricky little extras. Anything is okay, as long as providing you with an answer won't amount to spoilers (although I think we're fairly safe on that front so far).**

**Hope you enjoyed it!**

**(_Edhwierft = reverse)_**

**(By the way, I apologise, but I am woefully ignorant of plant life in general. Any plants mentioned in this story are likely to either be [probably poorly] researched, made up, or made up and in Old English. Crígan, for example, means bubbles. Make what you want of that. Lol.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**I AM SOOOO SORRY! No excuses this time, though- I am the only one to blame for the horrifically long wait since I posted the last chapter. Me and my incredible ability to simply not notice the actual passing of time (it honestly feels like I posted just last week...). Huge thanks to all those who have either read, commented or favourited this story since then, though. It's majorly appreciated, and I just hate that you've been left in the lurch for so long.**

**On that note, I have a serious request for you. If I ever take more than two weeks to post again, please feel free to send me plenty of nudges. More than three weeks? The mild threats can begin (you know, kidnapping me, ripping off my legs and tying me to a computer desk etc.). And, if a month or more passes, please do feel free to track me down, extract the story from my brain and murder me in my sleep.**

**There are, inevitably, a few more OCs popping up over the course of the next few chapters- mostly guild heads and council members. I know there are an awful lot more in this story than in past ones, but they are kind of necessary considering the setting. If you ever have trouble remembering which one is which, feel free to shoot me a question (or even if you just want to know more about them- I'm okay with that,too). I can only hope that you find some of them even half as epic as I do. :D**

**MOVING ON! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Hours later found Merlin seated at a paper-strewn table in the castle's west wing, working through a hefty pile of reports from each of the guilds. Today being a Friday, the work was a good three times the usual amount, as as the weekly reports from the outlying posts had to be seen to, too. The other members of the magic council were each surrounded by mounds of parchment themselves, reading through each one in detail before passing them to Merlin for the final checks and abbreviation.

It was mind-numbing work, and the constant sound of various assistants darting in, out and around the room provided perfect ammunition for the beginnings of a headache, but it was necessary nonetheless. The trial centred around the fact that things were intended to function as they hopefully would for years to come- it was just unlucky circumstance which meant that he was often left with an amount of desk-work to rival that of the King himself.

"Can someone bring me the last three weeks' sales reports from the Elmsworth and Inkwood branches of the Merchants Guild?"

Attention drawn by the voice, Merlin looked up in time to see Keaton accepting a small sheaf of parchment. The older man's hands hovered briefly above each one, scanning them at lightning speed for the information he needed. The small furrow which promptly appeared on Keaton's brow did absolutely nothing to help his headache.

"Problem?"

Unseeing eyes turned in his direction, the face they belonged to almost carefully blank.

"It could be nothing," Keaton started slowly, his cautious tone quickly drawing all work to a halt, "or it could be something big."

Tana tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, setting down a rather detailed request for permission to acquire a cwealm bíten worm for possible studies into finding a long-term cure for its bite. "What is it?"

"A man in Elmsworth bought three vials of liquefied cockatrice scales. I wouldn't think anything of it, except that he appears to have bought the same liquid from Inkwood on at least two separate occasions recently."

Keaton's tone made it obvious enough that this news held some level of significance, but for the life of him Merlin couldn't work out why. "So chances are he's stocking up. Any idea what for?"

"Cockatrice scale," began Tana, her usually gentle expression turning serious. "In small quantities, it can be used as a cure for extreme fever- no doubt he used the excuse of an ailing relative as his reason for purchase." At Keaton's affirmatory nod, she promptly continued. "But in large amounts, and under the right conditions, the scales can be used to break enchantments, to temporarily boost one's magic exponentially- with severe repercussions, I might add- or even to create a slow-acting poison, the effects of which are often unidentifiable until it's too late."

Merlin's eyebrows rose of their own accord. "And we're actually selling this stuff?"

Tana allowed herself a small half-smile. "It was deemed safe for sale because, as far as anyone knows, the recipe for the poison was lost over two hundred years ago. It is said to have relied on an extremely rare planetary alignment. And the knowledge and ingredients required for the magic boost are nigh on impossible to come by, according to what I've been told. Not to mention that the damage to one's own body hardly makes it worth the risk."

"Which means this guy's likely to either have a hell of a lot of sick family members- possibly signalling a plague- or he's attempting to break some unknown enchantment?"

"Either option is probably worth investigating," Michael put in. "Especially if there's a chance of a plague spreading- we need to be prepared."

Merlin leaned back in his chair. This could potentially mean a whole lot of extra work. "Agreed. We'll request permission for a full investigation at the council meeting- to take place under strict secrecy, of course. Just in case it turns out the guy really is up to something shady. How does that sound?"

A chorus of agreements echoed round the table, with Keaton handing the sales reports back to his assistants, complete with instructions to 'start looking into it.'

With that out of the way, everyone immediately settled back into their work, and Merlin allowed himself a small moment to sit back and take a sip from the goblet floating beside his chair. Strictly speaking, he should have had it resting on the table, but the constant, minuscule tug of magic needed to keep it afloat kept his mind comforted while he was cooped up like this. That, and it was a simple way to ensure he didn't accidentally knock its contents all over the reports.

* * *

It was almost two long hours before they finally managed to wrap things up for the day, and it was with a sigh of huge relief that Merlin put his seal on the documents containing the information to be presented at the day's council meeting. If the trial did succeed, he was practically praying that the currently daily meetings would be able to eventually become even slightly more spread out. Even just a single day off once in a while would be absolute bliss. As things stood, though, he completely understood the necessity of having them so often.

Glancing out through one of the windows, the Warlock took a few moments to make some quick mental calculations regarding the time. He had put aside a few minutes to visit Gaius earlier in the day, following his routine visits to the second portion of guild houses (the first had been done two days previously), but he had yet to find any time to go and check on his own experiments. If he moved fast enough, however, he might be able to squeeze in an hour or so before dinner.

He didn't notice the figure sneaking up behind him until an elbow was thrown at a rather awkward angle against his shoulder. Rolling his eyes, Merlin promptly threw off the offending limb and turned around, only to find himself confronted with a grin so carefree and mischievous that it could only belong to one man.

"What are you after?"

Isaac raised both hands in mock affront, green eyes sparkling merrily. "Now why do you always have to assume I'm after something?"

"Because whenever you get that look on your face, you usually are."

"That may be, but what's wrong with giving a man the benefit of the doubt every once in a while?"

Merlin arched a sceptical eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards in amusement at the man's puppy-dog expression. Finally, though, he relented, ans was left shaking his head when a triumphant grin spread across Isaac's face.

"This time, however," the blond continued, "you happen to be right." His smile faded marginally, but still remained firmly in place. "You're not doing anything right now, are you?"

Quickly re-scheduling his experiments to after the council meeting, Merlin shook his head. Isaac may act as though he didn't take anything seriously, but he rarely asked council members for help unless it was for something important.

"Nothing that can't be put off. What do you need?"

"You see, Tana's asked me to translate this ancient Goblin text that someone found in a cave in a cave in Northern Mercia. She thinks it might contain information about some creatures which pre-date even the modern dragons."

Merlin nodded in response. As one of Tana's assistants, and with his love for languages having granted him a firm position in the Guild of Obscure Magics, it only made sense that Isaac was the one granted this task. "Do I sense a 'but'?"

The grin turned sheepish. "Buuut... it's got an enchantment of some sort on it which means it can't be opened. I tried to break it myself, but I have this horrible suspicion I only made it worse..."

"Well, I'd be happy to take a look," Merlin began, "But don't you think someone in the Perception Guild would be a safer bet?"

"I tried talking to Franklin. He took one look at the thing and said that it seemed like something you'd be interested in."

Curiosity piqued, Merlin passed the sealed documents to the waiting courier and made his way towards the door, Isaac at his side.

"Where is this mysterious book, then?"

"On my desk in the Guild House. Although it may be buried beneath a mound of parchment and my Wyvern horn..."

"Alright then," Merlin laughed, "let's go see if we can dig it out of that mess you call a workspace."

"It's not a mess," Isaac pouted. "It's a system. I can't help it if everyone else's system is different from mine."

Mind flicking to the ordered chaos which made up his own rooms, Merlin couldn't help but to agree. Though, for the life of him, he could never make heads nor tails of Isaac's so-called 'system.' To him, it looked like little more than a haphazard disaster area, just waiting for the perfect moment to collapse on them all.

They were nearly to the castle courtyard when an out-of-breath shout burst into life, reverberating around the narrow corridor.

"My Lord Merlin!"

Grinding to a halt, Merlin bit back the faint twinge of uncomfortable confusion which still reared up at the sound of his (possibly temporary) title, even after all this time. Turning his head brought a small boy into view at the end of the corridor, his hands resting on the knees of his breeches and his cheeks tinged pink from the efforts of his excursion.

"My Lord Merlin," the boy repeated, drawing in deep breaths as they came back to where he stood. "I have... a message... from... the guards... at the gate..."

Crouching down until they were more or less at equal heights, Merlin offered an easy smile. "Alright. Just catch your breath first. I doubt anything terrible will happen just because you take a few extra seconds."

Less than a minute later, the boy tried again. "The guards said that Lady Dena had returned with the prisoner. I'm to tell you to head to the dungeon straight away."

Thoughts suddenly grave, Merlin nodded once. "Has someone informed the King?"

The boy drew himself up proudly. "My brother. He left when I did. And another boy was told to go to the Prince."

"Thank you. You can go now, but I'll be sure to mention how great a job you did." Once the lad had trotted off, Merlin turned once more to Isaac. "Looks like I'll be busy after all. But if you drop the book off at my chambers, I'll see if I can find time to look at it tonight."

"The perils of power, right? No time for the fun stuff."

"You got that right."

Raising an arm in friendly farewell, Merlin headed back the way they had come, quelling the ever-present urge to just cut through the servants' passages in favour of the wider, more extravagant corridors someone in his position was expected to take. A minute or so later, Arthur's emotions flared up, too, and the Prince left he vicinity of his chambers. The blond tended to move fast when he had a purpose- much faster than Merlin's usual loitering gait, anyway- and, despite the differences in distance, he reached the entrance to the dungeons mere moments after the Warlock's arrival. It was by unspoken consent that they waited for Uther before proceeding any further, though. Having the King present for the entire ordeal would displace any doubts of the council members over the details when Merlin came to report what happened. Even after all that had occurred over the past year, a large portion of them were still prone to disbelieving the word of a magic-user at face value- especially one with Merlin's level of power.

As it turned out, they didn't have to wait long before the King strode into view. The older man didn't pause for pleasantries, though (he never did), but instead offered Arthur a brief cursory nod on his way past, the two boys instantly falling into step behind him. The journey to the cells which had been modified to contain magical prisoners was brief, but tense. It always was when Merlin and Uther were together. The comfort spell which had linked them as protection against Uther's grief had faded long ago, but the temporary secret bond had left the two even more uncertain around each other than ever. This never really affecter either's work, but it left a very uncomfortable feeling in the air at times such as this, when very few others were around to ward off the tension.

When they reached the cell in question, it was to the sight to a petite beauty leaning against the outer ward, tapping her foot in undisguised impatience. With her silvery-blonde tresses, pale green eyes, slender form and usually peaceful aura, one might have been excused for thinking the girl a pampered princess of sorts. Might have. But it was unlikely. One of the castle staff had once informed Dena that she was as pretty as a princess. The girl had promptly burst into laughter, informed the unfortunate lad that princesses could be just as hideous as anyone else, and launched into a series of questions about the likelihood of a real princess spending her entire time in trousers rather than skirts, defeating half the men she knew in the occasional drinking competition and being more well-versed in defensive magics than a master of eighty years. By the time she realised how extremely she was reacting, the poor boy had long since decided to simply avoid speaking in her presence altogether, through fear of his words seeming derogatory. He hadn't broken said vow yet- despite her fervent apologies.

As the trio rounded the corner, Dena straightened up to her full (and entirely unintimidating) height and tapped a slender finger against the ward behind her, alerting the man sealed within to their presence.

"Is this the one?" Uther demanded, face reddening slightly in anger as he glared at the unrepentant sorcerer. "Is this the demon who's been terrorizing my kingdom?"

Dena rolled her eyes at the melodramatics, but nonetheless threw the man a disgusted glare of her own before providing her answer.

"It's him alright. Found him just where the reports said we would, surrounded by piles of bones and rotting animal flesh. The jerk managed to set a horde of re-animated dogs on us, along with what probably used to be a bear. You're lucky you sent me along, or we could have lost all five men to his twisted experiments."

The roiling in Merlin's gut served to prove her words to him. With most people, the magic he sensed was a neutral force- even Nimueh's and Morgause's had had a certain light about it. But this man- this man had defiled his magic to such an extent that even the faint wisps of it which were allowed to filter through the wards almost had his stomach turning. He held little to no wonder at Dena's expression of revulsion- she had, after all, been forced to endure the man's presence for however many hours it had taken them to travel back.

"You name?" Arthur questioned, but showed no surprise when the man chose to glower and spit at the ward instead of answering verbally. "Very well. Merlin, the charges?"

Merlin forced all but a trace of disgust from his voice as he addressed the prisoner. "You stand accused of practising the dark art of necromancy- of defiling the bodies of the dead and using them in attacks upon no less than three of Camelot's villages. You have until tomorrow evening to direct a representative force towards any evidence of your innocence, if you so choose. At that point, a trial will be held to determine your fate, with a collective decision being made by both the magical and non-magical councils. Do you wish for a representative to be sent?"

The man let out a short, harsh bark of a laugh. "Don't you try the high-and-mighty act on me, boy. You're the one who cursed our kin to a second round of extermination. I played with a few corpses- you're sentencing hundreds to death. You tell me which one's worse. I'm just disappointed I won't be around to see you pay for it. Your body would make a truly excellent puppet." He paused, pupils dilating, nostrils flaring, and tongue darting out to flick across dry, cracked lips. "So much power, just waiting to be used." Another pause, this one spent studying the increasingly disgusted Warlock with an expression of greedy disdain. "Now leave me be, and stop pretending my 'fate,' as you so put it, hasn't already been decided. I'm dead regardless of what gets said at the trial, and you know it." Then his mouth slammed firmly shut, and refused to open again regardless of what they said.

With such a reception, it was barely two minutes before the King's patience with the situation ran out, and at his word the prisoner was left to his own devices- the closest company a pair of guards posted three short passages away. Uther departed to the throne room for the day's audience with members of the public, with Arthur hot on his heels. Dena waited until they both both out of earshot before stretching her arms as high as they could reach and heaving a huge, relieved sigh.

"Ugh! Boy am I glad to be away from that creep. You know, he spent the entire journey back staring at me, muttering under his breath about what a fantastic addition I'd have made to his twisted little 'collection.' It's enough to make your skin crawl."

"I don't doubt it." Merlin could still feel the last vestiges of dark magic crawling over his own flesh. Could still sense those sickeningly piercing eyes dissecting his form. "Sorry you had to put up with that."

"Had to be done, right?" Dena observed, pausing a second before allowing a crafty grin to spread across her face. "I'm still a little tense, though. Fancy a little competition to blow off some steam? I've been working on a new ward, and I need someone strong to test it against. Two hours in the hat of humiliation says you can't break through within the time limit."

The grin was as contagious as ever, but there was something else Merlin wanted to do first. He jerked his head in the direction of some cells off to the right. "Actually, now I'm down here, I was thinking of visiting Jetta a little earlier today. But I might drop by afterwards, if I've still got enough time."

Mischievous green eyes instantly took on a defeated tint, and the reply this time was a lot more sombre than mere moments before. "Her week's nearly up, you know. It she hasn't changed her mind by now, I doubt she's going to. I don't like it either, but we might have to just let this one go."

She was right. Of course she was. Merlin had known it ever since the trial five days previously. But still...

"That doesn't mean we should just give up. There's still two days left. That's two days to try and convince her."

Dena sighed once more. She and Merlin had been fast friends for months now, and she knew exactly how stubborn he could be with things like this. It was an admirable trait, but she couldn't help but think that it was only going to hurt him in the end.

"Alright then," she breathed resignedly. "Knock yourself out." She looked away down the corridor. "But try not to take too much time- it's been far too long since I've seen you in that lovely hat. The sparkles are missing you."

"But the lace and feathers suit you so much more!" Merlin enthused. "It would be cruel of me to take that away!"

"I'm counting that as an acceptance of my challenge."

A brief smile twitched across the Warlock's face once more, and he couldn't resist just two final words before they parted ways completely.

"You're on."

* * *

**Bop.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Three weeks. Getting better, although I don't know whether to be happy or sad that I didn't receive any threats during the course of this past week. Lol. **

**So here we meet Jetta. And I must apologise in advance. I don't typically include swear words in my stories. But she refused to do otherwise. Silly ol' characters refusing to follow my lead! And we also see a bit more from Dena (for which I know at least one reviewer will be happy. Lol), who I love. She's already right up there with Kennard in my books, and is on the fast track to becoming, quite possibly, my favourite own-OC so far. If you like her even half as much as I do, I will love you forever.**

**Moving on...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin (But Dena is mine! Mine, I tell you!)**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Jetta was where she always was- seated, cross-legged, against the left wall of her cell, head tilted upwards towards the slowly dying light of the sun. She showed none of the anguish one might expect from someone housed in a cell reserved for those awaiting executions, but instead held herself with a dignity and resolve which wouldn't have seemed out of place in a born and bred member of the nobility. As Merlin approached, she slowly twisted her neck until solemn grey eyes met his pleading gaze.

"I wasn't expecting you until later."

Merlin offered up a half-hearted shrug. "I was in the area. Thought I might as well drop by a little early. "

"It won't make any difference, you know. I've made my decision. There really is no reason for you to torture yourself like this."

Smiling sadly, Merlin settled himself down against the wall opposite the cell. "And I say there is a reason. I don't see the point in you throwing away your life like this. If you'd just agree to register-"

"I'm not putting my name on Uther's damned execution list, and I'm not having you brand me like some common criminal. I've said it before, and I'll say it again- magic is my birthright. And I absolutely refuse to participate in some farce not worth the King's spit. I'd rather die now, by my own choice, than be hunted down like a bloody animal once these six months are up."

"But there's not even any guarantee that the trial will fail."

"Oh, please," Jetta scoffed. "We're talking about Uther and his council of dogs here. The only reason this sorry excuse of a trial is even taking place is so they can get the names and faces of the people they want to watch burn."

"There are measurements in place to prevent that. It's not an ideal situation, I know. But it's our best hope."

"Oh, I know all about these 'measures' of yours. The tattoos fade, the scroll is destroyed, you get killed and the other magic users are given two days to scarper, right?"

Merlin nodded. "It's a bit more complex than that, but yeah, that's the general idea."

"And you honestly think that tyrant will stick to it?"

"He has to. Or else, by the terms of the agreement, he has to relinquish his throne, and Arthur goes back to complete free will in his actions regarding magic. You may not believe the King to be a man of his word, but you have to know he won't take such risks when it comes to his son."

The older woman gave a reluctant nod to the affirmative but, as ever, she showed no sign whatsoever that she was even considering changing her mind. "That may be so, but that still doesn't change a thing for me. The King and half his men know exactly who I am. Say what you will, but once this trial of yours fails there is no way I'll be safe from him. No- far better for me to die alone here than to give him a chance to track me back to my family. And there's nothing you nor anyone else can say which is gonna change that."

And that was the crux of it all. No matter what extents Merlin went to- no matter how hard he and those around him tried to forge a new path- there would always be those, like Jetta, who simply could not find it in themselves to trust the system they had set up. Not as long as Uther sat on the throne. There was just too much pain between them- too much distrust. It was a fact which no amount of effort on his part would change, and he knew it.

But that didn't mean he should stop trying.

He stayed with Jetta a while longer, dancing precariously around the matter of the older woman's impending execution, and wondering occasionally if he would care quite as much were she not someone he liked and respected as much as he did. If it had been a year earlier- if his magic still remained a secret- he would have had absolutely no qualms about freeing her. In fact, he still didn't. Jetta wouldn't hurt a fly, and it physically pained him that he would have to see her die. But, by an odd twist of fate, it was his own agreement- his own spells- which meant that the option was no longer open to him.

If that wasn't enough to feed his guilt over the whole situation, he wasn't sure what would be.

When he left the dungeons, it was to find the vaguest hints of red tingeing the sky, setting the very edges of the scattered clouds alight with a gentle fire. That gave him around twenty minutes until dinner would be served. If he was willing to eat late (and fast), then a quick competition with Dena was just about feasible. If anything was going to be able to cheer him up enough to be able to focus on the council meeting, that would.

Making sure to stick to some of the less busy passages, Merlin made his way out of the castle proper and towards the Guild of Defensive Magic, casually acknowledging all those who greeted him on the way.

The Guild House, when he arrived, was as chaotic as ever, each room housing people either researching or practising various wards and other defensive spells. He could have sworn he saw a wall of purple-tinged thorns springing up in one room, with a panicked sorcerer trying desperately to reign back the growth to a specific area. A few questions cast at those who didn't seem to be immensely involved in something revealed that Dena was in a room at the back of the second floor- one she had apparently booked for personal use. Thanking his informants, the young Warlock sidled up the stairs, avoided knocking over three separate piles of precariously-balanced books, and slowly edged the door in question open.

Dena was seated, dead centre, on an otherwise bare wooden floor, each hand resting delicately atop a folded knee. As the door opened she broke her meditation, uncrossing her legs and rising to her feet in a movement so fluid Merlin wouldn't have been able to mimic it even with a years worth of training. Once standing, she shot a smug yet mischievous grin in the Warlock's direction.

"Had a feeling you'd turn up eventually. You're just like that block-headed prince of yours in that respect. Never can resist a challenge, can you?"

Nabbing an hourglass from the small table just outside the door before it shut, Merlin immediately adopted an expression of mock affront at the Witch's observation.

"Now that's just not fair. You don't find me comparing _you_ to some random pet, do you?"

A delighted peal of laughter echoed briefly around the small room before Dena nodded her acknowledgement. "That's true enough. Although that might just be because I have better taste in pets." Laughing once more at the 'fair enough' shrug which promptly pulled at Merlin's shoulders, Dena turned a merry, almost thoughtful gaze briefly towards the ceiling. "It's a good thing Uther's not here to hear this. He'd probably think you really have put Arthur under a control spell."

"Not completely sure he ever stopped believing that in the first place, to be honest with you."

"I'd have to agree with you there. He hasn't half got a chip on his shoulder where you're concerned. Talk about major trust issues." The light-hearted grin morphed into an expression of steely determination. "Still, that's what we're here for. And what better way to change that stubborn oaf's mind than to come up with a ward even the mighty Emrys can't break through?"

Merlin's own grin widened in response. "I better not hold back, then."

"Believe me, if you even tried I would kick your sorry behind from here to the moon and back. There's absolutely no point in these sessions if you're not giving me all you've got."

The Warlock's lips couldn't have stretched farther if they'd tried. "Well alright then. If you're that keen, let's have a look at this latest trick of yours."

As anticipated, Dena's expression twisted into a slight scowl. The 't' word was generally a taboo in the blonde's presence. Merlin could get away with it on occasion, but only because both of them were fully aware of how much respect the Warlock truly had for her spell-craft. There was good reason for a girl of only twenty-three summers having become the head of one of the two largest guilds. In a unique style all her own, the petite Witch had transformed one of the most standard, unchanging magics into an art form, and in doing so had breathed a new spark of life into those who wished to study under her tuition. Were it not for the fact that she so strongly disliked the idea of using her magic to harm others, she could have made a phenomenal Watcher, or else a truly formidable foe. In fact, she was the only non-Watcher ever requested to go on capture missions, such as the one earlier that day.

It was enough to make Merlin's magic tingle in anticipation.

With a slight huff of laughter at her reaction to his remark, Merlin turned away to give Dena the time to prepare her spell. Widening his senses, he ran a hand along the edge of the walls, bolstering any weakening spots in the wards which coated them so that not even a wisp of magic would be able to escape the room during the duration of their challenge.

That done, he turned his attention to the hour glass still enclosed within his other hand.

"_F__eórjnirjg__ádæle_." At his words, the sand housed within the glass sprang to life, precisely one quarter of the grains temporarily defying gravity as they settled into the upper segment, ready to await his order to resume their usual passage through time.

Satisfied with his own preparations, Merlin turned to take a look at his opponent's handiwork.

And blinked.

At first glance, it appeared as though nothing had changed. Dena stood exactly where he had left her, watching with an amused glint in her eyes as he puzzled through the absence of the expected shield. Knowing it would be against the rules until their competition started, he had to resist the urge to reach out towards her with his magic, to search out the barrier he knew must be there.

With one final satisfied smirk, Dena relaxed her stance, her eyes taking on a deceptively unfocused sheen. The first time Merlin had seen her like this had been during the guild head applicant demonstrations, where she had dazzled all those present with a stunning display of fluid grace, combined with unrivalled technical prowess and impressive levels of both wisdom and power. He had been her opponent then, too, and the thrill of being able to go all out against her had never quite worn off.

Determined not to lose, Merlin took a moment whilst settling the hourglass against the wall to focus his own mind. And by the time he turned back, just a few seconds later, all traces of tomfoolery had been wiped from his features.

"_Ályne_."

The first grain of sand hadn't even completed its descent before Merlin burst into action, shooting an experimental bolt of lightning from his fingers with such speed that, had anyone happened to be watching their impromptu match, the entire attack would likely have barely registered.

Its effect, however, would have been impossible to miss.

With a blaze of golden light, the lightning disappeared, fading from existence a mere finger's breadth from Dena's left shoulder. And, in that split second, a shimmering barrier appeared to spring into being, its effervescent hues of ever-changing greens tracing a delicate outline around her entire form.

Wasting no time on surprise, Merlin quickly launched another attack. And another. And another. But, no matter what element (or combination thereof) he called upon, the result was always the same. Fire dissipated, water evaporated, and earth crumbled to the ground as mere specks of dust, coating Dena's shoes in a film film of brown. But, even as his spells were ripped apart, the barrier never once faltered.

Magic buzzing at the challenge this new shield posted, Merlin brought a sudden halt to his blind experimentation. Whatever techniques Dena had used to create her barrier, it would most certainly stand against the basic attacks which would likely be used on a battlefield. But then, he had expected no less. Although he suspected that this particular ward would take a little something extra to break, considering the Witch's earlier confidence.

Smiling, Merlin called upon a new spell of his ow design- a unique mist of pure magic, mixed with a little gem he's translated from a restricted access ancient Sidhe text. The mist drew itself towards its target from all directions at once, dancing on a non-existent wind, and determined to search out even the tiniest of kinks in the girl's armour. For thirty long, agonisingly slow seconds, the Warlock kept up his gentle offensive. And yet not once did he feel that tingle in his mind, that glow in his vision, which would indicate any measure of success. Instead, much like before, each wave of mist was wiped from existence at almost the precise moment it came into contact with that never-shifting bubble of protective energy.

Relinquishing his efforts with the mist, Merlin went with a slightly more common approach, one occasionally favoured by higher calibre sorcerers. Binding together his magic with the air and light itself, he summoned into being a small horde of light-formed creatures, each one given the shape of a different species of animal, ranging from bug to bear. Keeping a careful eye out for the precise moment they came into contact with the ward, he sent them, one after the other, charging into the shield, beginning with the smallest. Not a single one made it through, but the beginnings of a theory were starting to form in his mind.

For the next few minutes he continued his barrage of assaults, each one more complex than the last. And, in the midst of it all, he began to draw out the slightest film of magic to coat his right hand. And as time began to run short, and even his attacks of around the level of a high priest of the old religion were having no effect, the barest hint of a smile began to emerge on his opponent's face. And, in a clear sign that she was getting impatient for the result of the plan she no doubt knew he had been brewing, she raised a single palm and summoned forth a brief, flickering illusion of that blasted hat of humiliation. And if a reminder of that ghastly headpiece wasn't enough to spur him into action, he was fairly certain nothing would be.

Narrowing his eyes at the blatant taunting, Merlin nevertheless gave into it. Calling a halt to his current paralysing attack, he reached out instead with his mind, placing both hands against the barrier. The instant he did, a faint tingling engulfed his right palm, confirming his suspicions and causing Dena to startle as she looked between the hand and him in surprise.

The action also had a second effect, though, summoning the magic-resistant spores he had spread with his earlier mist to gather together at the point of contact, forming a tiny solid point of equal size to the eye of one of Gaius' needles. Then, taking a single step back once more, he summoned together a single lance of pure power and, using his magic to guide his aim, thrust its tip against the result of his Sidhe magic.

After a moment, wherein nothing seemed to happen, he finally felt the tiniest of shifts. Overcome with determination, he applied as much pressure as he safely could, hoping desperately that something would shift. And, eventually, it did. And, for the barest fraction of a second, the lance pierced, tapping against Dena's arms before the barrier took effect and broke it apart.

Letting out an unintentional bark of triumph, Merlin threw a hand behind him, freezing the hourglass and all its contents firmly in place.

This was the moment of truth. The attack may have pierced, but if it was even a second too late then the victory went to Dena, and the punishment to him. And this time, he knew, it had been extremely close.

In the end, the two magic-users turned as one. And, as his gaze fell upon two small glass container, his heart fell. At first glance, it seemed as though the hit had landed just too late. But then, walking closer, a mere seven grains of sand came into view, teetering on the edge of the division, and sending his spirits soaring. Trying (and failing) to keep the smug expression out of his eyes, he turned to meet Dena's stubborn gaze. He didn't need to say a word, but the meaning was clear enough for a petulant scowl to emerge in return.

"Alright," Dena snapped light-heartedly. "You win this time. I'll wear your ridiculous hat."

Turning on her heel, the Witch strode from the room, Merlin right behind her. The hourglass was returned on the way past, and both of them tried to ignore the stares they received from various guild members, not giving anything away as the bystanders attempted to work out who had been the victor of this latest challenge. By the time they reached the entryway, they had gathered quite a crowd behind them.

They stood for a moment beside the small cabinet which housed the hat of humiliation. Merlin could practically hear the intake of breath as he reached inside to remove the monstrosity he had last been forced to wear two weeks previously, and he most definitely heard the stifled giggles when Avery (another of Dena's assistants) appeared out of seemingly nowhere to secure the latest addition- a small wooden pig enchanted to glow in various colours. Taking a deep breath, Merlin moved as though to place the random mishmash of oddities on his own head... and then planted it unceremoniously atop Dena's crown.

The crowd, as it ever did, burst into raucous laughter, and cries of 'never mind, boss' and 'you'll get 'im next time' resounded around the small space.

Dena, for her part, held up extremely well, although the tomato-red blush which swamped her entire face made for a sight and a half. Nevertheless, she survived a full twenty seconds of the humiliating treatment before reverting back to her usual personality.

"Alright, that's enough," she huffed. "Now get back to whatever it was you were doing, before I decide to trap you in the same room as one of Peronell's fúllnes plants for a week."

Ten seconds later, not a single guild member was in sight. When Dena was embarrassed, there was no telling _what_ she was capable of. If she said she'd lock them all in with a plant which reeked like serket urine and fifty-year-old cheese, there was every chance she would actually do it.

Merlin merely raised an eyebrow, wisely deciding that it would be best not to comment. Instead, he deciding a more positive twist to the conversation was in order.

"Still," he remarked," that was one heck of a ward. How did you do that magic-dispersal thing?"

Pleased to be on more familiar ground, Dena shot him a triumphant grin. "It wasn't dispersal."

"What? But-"

"And here I thought you had it figured out," She heaved a dramatic sigh, the last hints of red fading from her cheeks. "Can't be helped- guess I might as well tell you." After several moments of silent concentration and a flash of golden eyes, a smaller version of the earlier shield manifested itself as a fist-sized sphere above Dena's now outstretched palm. With a few twitches of her fingers, the sphere began to switch between various forms at a rapid pace, shifting to different locations upon command. And, all the while, Dena kept up her explanation, growing more and more enthusiastic as she went on.

"See, first of all, I wanted to make the ward completely self-sustainable. It's not really there, though. Still needs a steady stream of concentration to keep any particular form, not to mention strength. But, left alone, it can stay in place for about twenty minutes. Considering it's designed for combat, I reckon that's ample.

"Now what you thought was magic dispersal was actually a magical break-down, based on some old troll spells Tanner recommended to me, together with some of the research taken from the Isle of the Blessed. It latches on to the free magic within a recently cast spell- the only kind you'll typically find in battle- and separates it from whatever is binding it to a physical form, then absorbs the magic as fuel. Completely non-physical magics, such as telepathy, could probably pass through, but they'd have to be a fairly high level.

"And that," she grinned, "is just the beginning. Because it doesn't, after the initial casting, require any draining of my magic in particular, theoretically I can create however many are needed, within reason. True, each one takes a bit of time to cast, but the real breakthrough with this is that they can be personalised- designed to surround a specific person, so there could effectively be an individual ward for each knight who accepted one. And it would be _their_ concentration, not mine, which would keep the spell going. It's not perfected yet, and the tethering still has some minor kinks, but all in all I'd say it's probably my best creation to date.

"Which begs the question," she rounded off, the beginnings of a small frown creasing her brow, "exactly how did you get through it so quickly? No mere magical lance should have been able to do that. Which means I'm not the only one with new tricks up my sleeve. Am I right?"

"Yeah, sorry about that," Merlin grinned, before casting his gaze briefly in the direction of the hat. "Or maybe I'm not."

Pale green eyes narrowed dangerously, and the Warlock they were levelled at took a nervous step back, raising his hands in peaceful surrender. "Alright, alright- I'll get to the point.

"It was actually largely luck, to be honest with you." He shrugged his shoulders, oddly self-aware of his own realisation of this fact. "I happened to include a Sidhe twist in that mist spell. Tiny specks of magic which can share information on whatever they touch. Most of them were destroyed, but a tiny portion must've got just enough warning, because they managed to integrate themselves onto your shield. When I touched it, they were automatically summoned back to the caster, and-"

"And became solid," Dena finished for him, dawning realisation blooming across her features. "It wasn't the lance which broke through- you figured out that solid objects could pass through, and grabbed the opening it gave you."

"It's amazing what a bit of dust'll give away," Merlin acknowledged, gesturing towards Dena's boots and smiling slightly at the incredulous shake of her head.

"But why wait so long?"

The Warlock shrugged again, feeling a little sheepish. "The spell's a seeker- won't return for at least ten minutes. If I'd used that mist even a few seconds later, I wouldn't have broken through in time." He grinned. "Lucky timing, I guess."

Dena managed to look annoyed for a grand total of five seconds. Then she merely rolled her eyes in friendly exasperation. "I'll get you back for that next time."

"I don't doubt it." Glancing out at the ever-darkening sky, Merlin grimaced. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go and listen to another lecture on the idiocies of missing meals."

Dena laughed. "From what I hear, this'll be the third one this week. If you're not careful, he'll start shoving food down your throat while you sleep."

Merlin scowled. "I'm blaming you for this one."

A single eyebrow arched sceptically. "Yes. Because I'm _sure_ he'll accept _that_."

"You never know," Merlin protested, speaking over his shoulder as he stepped out into the night. "I might get lucky."

If he hadn't been expecting it, he might not have caught the half-muttered response, but the image it painted made him smile regardless.

"Sure, and I'm actually a twelve-foot man with webbed toes and a beak in place of my hair."

The smile carried him into the castle and almost to his room, where it was eradicated completely by thoughts of his now imminent confrontation with one of the few beings who could inject true terror into the heart of the most powerful magic-user of all time...

His manservant.

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**Dun. Dun. DUNNNNN! **

**So, likes? Dislikes? Random urges for me to include prancing rainbow-coloured unicorns in my stories? All comments are welcome and loved!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! Sorry once again for the wait (you really need to start pestering me more). Here be the next chapter of my valiant foray into topsy-turvy doom-town Camelot! It's a little shorter than most of the other chapters in this particular fic, but it's an important stage nonetheless. I really hope you enjoy it.**

**No A/N at the end today, so I'm just gonna say it all here: The Alp-luachra (a creature mentioned in passing) is not my own invention- it comes from Irish folklore, and is a type of fairy which takes the form of a lizard and, while you're asleep, crawls down your throat in order to munch on whatever you last ate. To get it out, you have to make it thirsty enough to leave by eating something salty. Lol.**

**Guest reviewer: Thank you very much for your comments. I can understand you feeling that Merlin is OOC, considering how much he differs from the series, but it is important to remember that the Merlin in this story has experienced an entirely different series of events, and has been changed by them accordingly. I believe I've dealt with all the character changes fairly believably, but everyone has a different take on each person. This is mine. And, as this is fanfiction (a format where people are pretty much doomed to be OOC at some point), I hope you can accept and endure what I've done. And bonus thanks for reading so far into the series even whilst thinking Merlin 'too OOC.' XD**

**Thank you to everyone else who read and reviewed, too. Please do keep the comments coming- I love finding out what you think works (or doesn't).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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**Chapter 5**

There was nothing on Earth which could ever reach quite the same pinnacle of boredom as flowed abundantly in the hell which masqueraded as Camelot's council meetings. Such was the conclusion Arthur had reached at a mere fifteen years of age, and he had yet to find even a single shred of evidence to oppose it. Outside of the occasional magic-related threat which sometimes interrupted said boredom, anyway. Maybe he could somehow convince his father to allow some of the Watchers to launch a phony, pre-approved attack? He could make up some argument about wanting to judge how well the council was able to respond in a crisis, and how they would utilise their own magical assets. Anything to relieve the mind-numbing dullness which was tax reports.

Still, all that was for another day. Today's hell was finally drawing to a close, and the reports were being put to one side, ready for the arcane-related documents to take their place. Still not exactly the most thrilling way to end a day, but at least for this part Merlin would have to suffer alongside him.

That is, provided the idiot actually managed to turn up on time. Their mental bond may have proved to be somewhat of a distraction at first- before they had discovered it was possible to block the endless stream of emotions to a certain degree, if they so chose- but it was an extremely useful tool if he ever wanted to know where the Warlock was. Or wasn't. And, right at that moment, where he _wasn't_ was outside the council chambers, waiting for the doors to open. No, instead the moron was thundering through the corridors, no doubt with all the subtlety of a herd of rampaging bulls. It was just a shame mind-speak was forbidden within the council rooms, because Arthur was sorely tempted to launch into a long stream of mental taunts and banter.

Sitting back, Arthur watched as his father received the magical reports from his manservant, casting a practised eye over the contents to ensure that no-one had tampered with them since his earlier reading. Apparently satisfied (but not, Arthur noted, entirely happy), the King handed the documents to his son. The blond glanced through them with all the speed granted by a lifetime of training. It all seemed fairly typical- Nothing to Report, A slight increase in thistle-root demand, entrance into Alp-luachra mating season and... a request to investigate some unknown man from Elmsworth. Well that couldn't be good...

"Open the doors!"

Uther's harsh voice pierced through Arthur's worries, and the Prince snapped his attention back to the current, breathing an internal sigh of relief when he realised that Merlin had made it. With just seconds to spare.

There must be times, Arthur mused, when his father truly regretted the extravagant aura his castle provided to those who knew how to use its nuances well. Having a group of six extremely talented magic-users- each with their 'formal face' (as Guinevere liked to call them) on- be perfectly framed by one of the most impressive doorways in all the kingdoms? Well, that just had to be one of those times.

As the Council of Magic, led by Merlin, made their way over to sit across from their non-magical counterparts, Arthur made sure to send a knowing smirk in his friend's direction. He would have to congratulate Crispin at some point- if the haunted expression in Merlin's eyes was anything to go by, the manservant must have done a number on him. No doubt the fool had run off on some magical non-emergency rather than find time for a decent dinner. Idiot.

Once everyone was seated, Uther gestured for Arthur to pass back one of the documents, and there was no doubt in the Prince's mind which one it was. Then, with that now firmly in hand, the King coughed once, glanced around at those assembled (quite blatantly avoiding Merlin's keen gaze as he did so) and launched into action with a brisk authority perfected over more than thirty years on the throne.

"Very well, then. We shall begin. Now," he fixed a deadly glare on the magical attendees, "I trust one of you will be more than capable of explaining this so-called 'urgent' investigation request."

And then they were off, dancing through topics of magic, money, medicine and monsters. Arthur interjected occasionally- largely in response to Lord Aldric sticking his big, ugly nose in where it wasn't needed- but mostly he let the magic-users hold their own. Each of them was more than capable, after all, and having him defend their reasoning all this time would only hurt their cause in the long run. And he was more than happy to intercede if either side's arguments got out of hand.

The meeting was just winding down when it happened. One of the lords- he'd stopped paying attention to which one- was droning on about the supposed benefits of cutting down the allocated space used to house various magical creatures when a jolt of semi-foreign alarm shot through Arthur's mind. As one, the Council of Magic froze, heads swivelling simultaneously towards one of their number-

-Tana. Who had suddenly spasmed into an almost statue-like state, nails gouging bloody welts into her palms and eyes ablaze with golden fire.

The magic-users were on their feet in an instant, alternately rushing to Tana's side and trying to calm the alarmed council members enough to convince them that the young Witch was not, in fact, attempting to launch some kind of attack. But it wasn't long, of course, before a harsh voice interrupted the proceedings.

"What in the blazes is-"

"Quiet."

Arthur wasn't sure what had done it- the tone, the situation, a secret shot of magic, or even just the pure shock that someone (a magic-user, no less) would dare to effectively order the King of Camelot to shut up- but the fact remained that, for quite possibly the first time in the young Prince's life, someone other than he, Gaius or Merlin had successfully rendered his father speechless.

And Destrian wasn't stopping there. As Tana shuddered and seized once more, he turned sharp eyes towards the others around them, quickly taking control of the situation.

"Keaton?"

"It's a strong one." Cloudy white eyes skittered across the scene. "She's in deep. Must be important."

"Michael?"

"Got it." With the kind of speed only mastered through years of practice, the redhead whipped a selection of herbs from the pouch at his waist, together with a miniature mortar and pestle, and began grinding down a few hastily torn-off leaves.

It was at this point, when Tana's breaths became little more than halted wheezes, that the regular council's alarmed accusations of treachery finally began to die down, the true manner of the situation sinking in at last.

Destrian's voice carried a hint of steel in it this time. "Michael."

"I know." Without ceasing in his work, Michael faced the two royals, needing permission from one of them if he didn't want to be penalized for magic use in this area of the castle. "Can I-"

Arthur replied before the question was even fully formed. "Whatever you need to do." Stupid rules.

In an instant, the herbs had crumbled into a fine blend, mixed with a few drops of moisture drawn from the air, and Michael was pouring it into Tana's mouth, leaving just the barest trace with which to draw a faint rune on her brow, Almost as soon as the mark was completed, the harsh rasping drew to an abrupt halt, easing into steadier breaths even though the girl herself remained unmoving. Arthur heaved a sigh of relief, watching as Michael moved calmly on to extricating hard fingernails from angry, weeping palms.

"Now, if everyone would be kind enough to stop gawping and instead take their seats, I shall explain the situation."

A firm stare from the older Warlock sent most of the room's inhabitants huffing back to their chairs (each one trying not to look as though they were doing so due to a magic-user's orders), casting not-so-inconspicuous glances towards Michael and Tana as they did so. Finally, Uther was the only non-magical member still standing.

"You majesty-"

"I do hope you have no intention of ordering me to sit down," Uther cut in icily.

Barely a fraction of a second passed before Destrian gracefully conceded the point. "Of course not."

"Then I shall remain standing, if it is all the same to you."

"Very well, sire," Destrian nodded, his own features showing every ounce as much dignified self-assurance as the King himself possessed. "If that is what you desire." Pausing barely a moment to run an eye over Michael's ongoing administrations, he continued on to address the room at large. "Now, rest assured that you have nothing to fear. Such a strong vision is indeed quite rare, but this situation is nothing out of the ordinary."

A vague recollection of momentarily blank eyes and a warning of a then upcoming storm flashed across Arthur's mind. "Wait a minute- are you saying that this is just one of her visions?"

"It is."

"Then how strong must this one be?!" The unspoken 'for it to cause such a reaction' hung heavily in the air.

"For that knowledge, I am afraid, we will have to wait and see." A pause. "Needless to say, it is my suggestion that we pay great heed to its contents. A vision of this strength is hardly likely to occur for some trivial matter."

"But I've seen her have a vision before. Its effect on her was barely even noticeable then!"

"Again, sire, it is a mere matter of strength. As Tana informed you upon her arrival, her visions are rare and unpredictable. Some will be over in the blink of an eye, and others... Well, you can see for yourself. To my knowledge, this is only her third since arriving in Camelot."

"Fourth," Merlin interjected. "She had a dream-vision a few weeks back about a small potential explosion in my chambers." He shot the others a sheepish smile. "Managed to avoid it, though. No harm done to any of the furniture."

Arthur resisted the urge to either knead his brow or else slap Merlin around the head, and instead chose to lean back in his seat, his gaze fixed once more on the frozen Witch and her attendee.

"And how long can we expect this... vision... to last?" Uther demanded, restraining himself to the barest twitch of a disgusted frown at one of the words he most loathed of late.

"We have no way of knowing, my Lord-" A sudden intake of breath cut through Destrian's intended platitudes, and the older man automatically jerked his head in its direction. "Although it seems we have just found out."

Tana was sitting up straight now, breathing steadying again as she took in her surroundings with half-dazed eyes. They eventually landed on the bandages, and she shot Michael a questioning glance.

"You hurt your hands," the redhead answered simply. "Not much damage- no magical treatment required."

Tana nodded once, then looked once more around the room, this time stopping when she came to the Prince. The uncomfortable feeling which had been settling in Arthur's gut instantly tripled in intensity. He should have known that this latest portent of doom involved him somehow. The really bad things always did, after all (a fact Merlin bemoaned repeatedly).And, if the million emotions shifting across Tana's face were anything to go by, this particular danger was not going to be even remotely fun for him.

Merlin was the first to break the tense silence, the prickling worry in his mind mirroring Arthur's own. "What did you see?"

Tana blinked. "I'm not sure."

"What do you mean you're not sure?!" Aldric exploded. "You've just spent the past five minutes shut up in some sort of vision-fit! How could you _possibly_ not know what you yourself saw?!"

"The vision was vague," Tana explained patiently, completely unfazed by the volatile temper of the currently beet-red lord. "I need time if I am to decipher all I saw. I can explain only very little right now."

"Then explain what you can," Arthur requested gently. "And you can tell us the rest later. Anything you know could help us to combat whatever kind of threat this is."

Sombre brown eyes fixed on him once more, and Tana momentarily dipped her head.

"There is a shadow drawing near," she stated quietly, voice carrying easily through the otherwise silent room. "A dark mist gradually closing in, as it has been for quite some time. A person known, yet never truly known, for whom the pieces have finally fallen into place. The keys are complete, and the puzzle is set, ready to consume us all if that aching hunger is to be sated. Because the monster is awake, and with it... with it will come the wings of eternal night."

Silence fell for a moment more as those sorrowful eyes met Arthur's. "The beast will come for you soon...

"And there is nothing you can do to stop it."


End file.
